No Rest For The Wicked
by Mistress Reigns
Summary: Dean is a Hunter, born and bred to do the job of keeping the non-human entities in his city in line no matter what means he needs to go to in order to accomplish his job. When he meets Seth, who is desperately in need of help to rescue his mate, he nearly turns the other man way. But ultimately accepting the job reveals far more secrets than a simple rescue mission ever should.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

Most hunters he knew would never be able to stomach the brutality of severe interrogations, but Dean Ambrose enjoyed them. As he rocked back on his heels, dragging the blade of his knife along his leather pant leg to clean the blood from it, he cast a discerning eye over the damage he had done thus far. The werewolf lying facedown, wrists and ankles bound spread eagle by silver cuffs, shuddered and snarled. The expanse of his golden back was no longer smooth; Dean had spent a good thirty minutes making long, clean cuts in the skin. Now that he glanced over them properly, he realized the straight edges were ragged; evidence of the silver in his blade eating through the man's skin. Good. He needed to suffer.

Dean was accomplished at his job; he knew how to draw pleasure from the act of torturing someone for the sake of acquiring information, and if it took this to get that information, so be it.

Before bringing Swagger into this room, he had given the other man a chance to confess what he knew and avoid being tied down and knifed yet again. Swagger refused, as he normally did, so Dean stopped being nice about things and knocked him out so they could tie him down.

It was not his job to be the good guy. He was here to serve as a type of police force, along with all of the other Hunters spread out throughout the world. They had a job to do. Occasionally, that meant playing the bad guy, tying someone down, and cutting them up until they writhed and screaming, promising to tell you whatever secrets they were hiding.

Jack Swagger just happened to be the most stupid wereanimal he had been forced to bring in yet; instead of just confessing the truth to avoid getting hurt, he stubbornly held onto whatever secrets he had. Which meant that, at least for the last thirty minutes, he had been shrieking inhumanly while Dean mapped out long lines on his back. They were carefully arranged so that, had he wanted to, he could make a few more cuts and begin skinning. Wereanimals would heal damn near anything as long as they were still living, and killing Swagger was a waste.

If he wanted to keep cutting sliced and diced, Dean had all the time in the world to cut him up.

Dean pushed himself to his feet so he could check the silver cuffs around Swagger's wrists and ankles; they were tight enough to lay flush against the skin. Already, the flesh above and below them was dark scarlet like a bad sunburn. All of this had to hurt like hell.

"Are you ready to talk to me, or do you want me to keep cutting you? I'm game for either." Dean knelt back down at Swagger's hip, resting the tip of his knife against the concrete of the floor. The whole room constantly reeked of bleach, and it made his nose burn.

"Fuck you, Ambrose." Swagger struggled, then hissed in pain when the cuffs dug into his bare skin. "I'm going to claw your fucking face off when I get out of here."

_Sure you are._ Dean shook his head and leaned forward once again, searching out a fresh spot to lay another wound. His eyes locked on the small of Swagger's back, so much uninterrupted skin to destroy if he wanted to. Not only did he want to, though; he _had_ to if he wanted to information he needed to make his next hit. Normally, he stayed out of wereanimal politics because there was no way to deal with them "correctly," but a missing leader was a big deal no matter how you tried to frame it. Wereanimals chose their leaders with precision, and Dean had a nasty feeling about the guy who had stepped in to take control. He seemed... Off.

His bosses had no idea why he had brought Swagger in, though. For now, Dean was keeping this one to himself until he had more information to work with.

With one rapid movement, he sliced diagonally across the small of Swagger's back.

The answering wail and struggling made him lean back, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched Swagger buck against the floor. Though he had lost a lot of blood and was more than doubt suitably poisoned from the amount of silver used on him, he was still refusing to talk. Guy had balls, even if he was about to lose them if he kept quiet.

Dean twisted his wrist and made another slice, leaving a crimson X across Swagger's back that began to leak blood immediately. The sharp copper scent coupled with the bleach made his head hurt, but there was nothing he could do about the smell. At least if it was bothering him, it also had to be bothering Swagger. Wereanimals had heightened senses, so the smell that gave him a headache was no doubt that much more painful for the mutilated man on the floor.

"Ready to talk now, Swagger? Or do you need some more?" Dean wiped his blade clean on his pants once again; they were far beyond help as it was, and they made a decent enough rag.

Swagger growled at him, body wavering slightly before sharpening; trying to shift in silver cuffs was all but impossible, but he kept trying. "No. I'm not telling you shit about anything."

Well, if he was in the mood to dig his own grave... Dean shook his head and placed the tip of his blade directly on Swagger's shoulder blade, slowly applying pressure so the skin dimpled before it split and began to bleed. He watched Swagger's face darken, jaw clenching as he fought to hold in any sounds, so Dean stopped being gentle. Keeping his hand firm around the handle of the knife to keep it straight, he slammed it down with his left hand until he heard it hit bone.

Swagger screeched and flattened himself against the floor, his muscles straining against the cuffs of their own accord as he tried to escape the blade. Sighing softly, Dean pressed down further even when the blade met resistance. It was fine. He could cut through bone just fine.

"Are you done now?" He leaned over the blade, pressing his weight down into the handle so it sank deeper, hovering above Swagger's flushed, sweaty face. "You can make all of this stop if you just tell me what you know. Can't really be worth all of this pain, can it?"

"Fuck, just stop." Swagger slumped against the floor, and Dean made sure the blade scraped against the bone when he jerked it out, wiping it quickly on his pants.

He saw the telltale nod and stood, retrieving the bottle of neutralizer in the corner and the cloth folded-up next to it. If Swagger was willing to communicate, then Dean would be nice enough to clean his wounds out for him. There was a reason he worked on a wereanimal's back instead of their front. Unless they had a buddy who was waiting for them outside—and Swagger most definitely did _not_—they could not fix their backs by themselves.

"Start talking," he said, setting the bottle in Swagger's line of sight so he understood.

"The guy's not dead." Swagger wet his lips and whimpered softly, nearly grinding his face into the floor. "Dunno where they hid him, but he's alive. The new guy, Hunter... He's from, like, fucking Canada or some shit. He came here to take over. I think he did it there, too."

Dean frowned, slowly unscrewing the cap on the bottle. "Why would he want to do that?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows. He just showed up when the old leader went missing and took over. I think he took some guys hostage, too." Swagger squirmed and whined up at him.

"I see." Dean began wetting down the cloth slowly. "Is he hurting them?"

Swagger shrugged to the best of his ability; it was hard with the bonds, but Dean saw it just the same. "I left after it happened. I think a few others ditched out but I don't know. But everyone thinks that's what's going on and that's why some of us left. It's scary."

"So the big bad wolf is afraid of something," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Do you have any idea what kind of guy Hunter is?" Swagger demanded, and Dean stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Exactly. He's a sociopath. He could fucking kill us all."

Dean nodded and started wiping down the wounds. "I'll keep that in mind."

It only took a few minutes to get the blood out of the way, then Dean quickly splashed his back and exited the room. One of the trainees raised an eyebrow at him as he exited the room; Swagger's howl followed him. A quick scowl at the trainee had him scurrying into the room, muttering something about taking care of it, and Dean nodded once before heading off to his private room so he could change out of his bloody clothes and into something cleaner.

He tried not to stay at HQ for too long considering he was a freelance worker, but when it came to torture, he preferred the concrete rooms HQ provided for just such a purpose. They were cold, clinical, and bleak enough to focus his prey's attention on nothing but the pain. Now that he was done, he wanted clean and he wanted out. No one knew he was investigating this disappearance except for a few of his friends, and until he determined whether it needed his attention or not, he wanted to deal with no one else. He had guys who would back him up if he needed their help. Not that he did, not yet, but they were his go-to guys. Not Hunters connected here.

Within minutes, he was showered, changed, and strolling out the doors as he raked a hand through his damp hair. All he needed to do now was reach his car and he could be on the way home in a mere few minutes. Maybe he could call it an early night and—

"Sir?" The voice that called his name stirred him out of his thoughts; his hand twitched toward the pistol in his jacket, but he resisted at the last moment and glanced up to see who wanted him.

And promptly froze a moment later when he realized two wereanimals were standing beside his car. Different heights, one with short dark hair and the other with longer black hair sporting a blaze of platinum along the right side. He focused on the smaller one when he realized it was that one who had spoken. What two wereanimals wanted with him, he had no idea, but he was willing to stop and listen if they were about to ask him what he thought they were.

"Yes?" He set his stance wider and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning his eyes on the smaller one. "Can I help you with something?"

The smaller one nodded and took a step forward, offering one hand that Dean considered before shaking; hot skin. Definitely a wereanimal; he was right. "My name is Seth Rollins."

"Good to know. You have fifteen seconds to tell me what you need before I push you both out of the way and go home. It's been a long day." Dean stayed direct and dropped Seth's hand, re-crossing his arms and waiting for him to speak again.

"Direct. I like that." Seth flashed him a smile, and Dean frowned slightly. "My mate is missing. So is Damien's." He cocked his head at the man next to him and he—Damien—nodded.

Dean scoffed and shook his head. "Sorry, I don't do missing persons. Not my thing."

Seth squared his shoulders. "I know. We can do the finding. We need _you_ to do the killing."

* * *

_**A/N: This story is part of the 1000 Prompts Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt for this chapter: 226. Twisted games we should never play.**_


	2. Chapter One

_**Chapter One**_

_There is nothing left to lose_

Seth Rollins trusted Dean Ambrose about as far as he could throw him; with preternatural strength backing him, he could throw the Hunter across the parking lot with relative ease. Considering how little help the Hunters actually provided his kind versus the damage they did, he thought that was fair; coming to a Hunter for help was viewed as asinine because of how uncaring they were when it comes to the people they supposedly helped when they took down rogue non-humans. Coming to Dean at all was a mistake, and he knew it, but Damien suggested it and he had just as much riding on it as Seth, but Seth had few ideas about how to proceed from where they currently were. Other than trying to blitz the men holding their mates and other members of their clan hostage, none of his ideas were viable and that one alone would probably be suicide. And if Roman had nothing to live for, no hope to hold out for help, he might well die in captivity. No one should die in captivity.

The thought made Seth ill; it should have been him they took, as they were collecting only the more vulnerable, submissive wereanimals like Cody, Heath, and Drew. How they settled on taking Roman instead of him was unfathomable, but he had no doubt Roman was suffering at the hands of those abusive sons of bitches. All he could think of was Roman bound and bleeding at the hands of men who did not deserve the lick the dirt from his boots, and Seth was torn between breaking down into tears, vomiting onto the asphalt, or shifting and tearing apart every living thing in a fifteen block radius. At least Damien had enough fortitude to stay strong right then.

Even if Seth didn't trust Dean—he knew the name, he knew the rap sheet, and he had heard about how fierce the man was in battle—he could sense the interest wafting off of the Hunter even if he was disinterested in helping rescue the imprisoned pack members. Maybe he liked the idea of getting to step in to kill Hunter and his men; had Seth had the ability, he would have more than enjoyed tearing them limb from limb himself. Too bad they were all bigger than him. Size mattered in a fight, especially if he ended up losing his footing even once.

Dying would not save Roman.

"You need me to kill someone. Now I'm listening." Dean uncrossed his arms and tucked his hands into his pockets, but Seth didn't miss the way he touched the gun at his hip before doing so. Probably loaded with silver.

"Our mates were taken, and we want them back. The only way we can come up with is to kill the people holding them." Seth cocked a thumb at Damien. "Damien suggested we come to a Hunter, and after we talked about it, we picked you. You're the best at what you do in this city, and we need the best we can get. So we decided to start at the top."

Dean nodded and smirked slightly. "Compliments will get you everywhere, Mr. Rollins. I don't think it's safe to talk in the open air. Do you have somewhere we can talk privately?"

"Not where all three of us would be safe. Right now, there are wereanimals all over this city who are afraid of our current alpha. We aren't welcome there. Where we're welcome, you're not, and our homes are unsafe." Seth didn't add that if they went back to either his place or Damien's, it would be extremely painful in two very different ways. Of course, homes held mementos of their mates—photographs, possessions, their scents. And the place probably had Hunter's goons swarming it. Or, worse, their own brethren forced to try to kill them.

"If you two aren't afraid of me, we could go to my apartment." Dean cocked a brow at them; Seth frowned. Walking into a Hunter's apartment seemed unnecessarily dangerous... But it might be the only place they would be safe. What would be the irony of that? "Or not..."

Damien cut in before Seth had a chance to respond. "We would be uncomfortable, but if it's the only place that would be safe for all three of us, we would be honored."

"You must be desperate. All right. Do you have a car, or did you... Walk?" The unspoken question was clear, and Seth nodded. Their cars were at their houses, and they had been unable to get to them in time. Traveling on four legs was their only current option. "I guess you can ride in my car, then. Though I can't say I'm comfortable with both of you in the backseat. I want one of you in the front seat."

"Why, exactly?" Damien asked, brows furrowed.

Seth scoffed softly and nudged his friend in the ribs with his elbow. "So he can put his gun to one of our heads if the other tries anything. If we're both behind him, he can't get a shot."

"Right." Dean smiled humorlessly. "I have nothing personal against your kind as a whole, but you two are virtual strangers and I would rather have the comfort of knowing I can at least take one of you out with me if you end up being a danger to my life."

It was that sort of pragmatism that most of his kind frowned upon, but Seth felt a pang of respect for the Hunter as he nodded assent to the condition. Had he been in the car alone with two people he could not trust because he didn't know them, he might make a similar demand or just refuse to let them in at all. Which made him wonder if Dean enjoyed bloodlust enough to bring two strangers to his apartment to discuss who he was being hired to kill, or if he was just confident enough in his ability to defend himself if need be. Probably the latter, but Seth's nose was as sharp as ever and he could smell the faint scent of blood lingering around Dean. Not the strength he would associate with someone who had been sprayed or doused in the liquid, but someone who had been in a room with another bleeding individual for an extended period of time.

_Probably just an interrogation. Maybe it was Swagger._ Again his will, Seth smiled and shook his head when Dean sent him a questioning glance. If Swagger had given the Hunter any trouble, they could discuss it after they had dealt with the real business—maybe Dean would share some of his interrogation techniques so Seth could learn them. Not that he relished torture or reveled in the pain of others, but he did quite enjoy making bloody pieces out of anything that attacked or harmed his mate. It annoyed Roman endlessly, considering wereleopards were nowhere near as protective or territorial as werewolves, but Seth preferred knowing that those who put his mate in danger were dead and had suffered.

"I have no problem with sitting in the front with you. If you're willing to talk about this with us, then I'm willing to offer myself up as fair game." He shrugged when Damien sent him an alarmed look; either they obtained Dean's help or not, but they couldn't in that parking lot.

"Good. Then go around to the passenger seat. You." Dean stopped, pointed at Damien. "You get behind him. That way, I can glance back and see you. Let's go."

Seth rounded the front of the car with Damien right behind him, ignoring the deep frown his friend sent him; if he didn't like Seth agreeing to the seating restrictions for whatever reason, he would have to simply suck it up and deal with it. They needed the help, and being picky about where that help came from might end up getting them killed. Dean was a Hunter, after all.

And if he could help Seth rescue Roman, all the more reason to do what he said.

The interior of the car smelled sharply of the Hunter it belonged to, and Seth silently admitted to himself that Dean did, in fact, smell good; a mix of musk, something woodsy, and something edible that made Seth want to sink his teeth in. Not in the same way animals smelled like food, though; they made him want to bite down and rip out long strips of sinew and muscle, chew through bones and fat. This was the sort of edible he associated with Roman; he wanted to sink teeth in to hear noises of pleasure instead of cries and pain. _Why the fuck?_ He had a mate. He and Roman had been together for _years_ now, and he shouldn't think of anyone else.

Though it had been on his mind for years. Werewolves shared quite a many traits with true wolves, and one of them happened to be mating for life. When Seth first found Roman and realized they were meant to be, he knew it would be forever and had no qualms about that because he was happy with Roman. But as the years passed, he felt that faint gnawing in his stomach that told him he wasn't truly settled yet. Mating was partially emotion and love and truly caring for your mate, but there was something instinctual about it, too.

Not that he ever doubted Roman was meant to be his mate, but he had seen the rare few wolves who mated with two mates instead of one and who never truly felt settled until they had both of them. As a cub, he once expressed to his father he wanted two mates for an idiotic reason and his father had scruffed him so hard he hadn't been able to walk with his spine straight for a week.

"We can talk on the ride, I assume?" Dean asked as he slid into the driver's seat, keys in hand.

"Should be safe. Can't imagine your car being bugged." Seth bucked his seatbelt more out of habit than anything else, picking up the answering click from behind as Dean fastened his own. "I'm sure you heard about our clan being taken over and our true alpha missing."

Dean nodded once, inserting the key into the engine. "I might've heard about it, yeah."

Seth discreetly sniffed the air; the traces of blood mixed in with Dean's scent were extremely faint, but he still knew who they belonged to because the man was a part of his clan and it confirmed what he entertained the thought of earlier—Swagger. The coward had bolted as soon as the takeover had begun, leaving the rest of them to deal with the aftermath. It was so common of him, and yet Seth never once thought a Hunter might have picked up on their drama and tracked Swagger down in an attempt to get him to talk. Maybe Dean would help them after all.

"We don't know where he is. All we know is that he disappeared and a few days later, Hunter showed up with a handful of guys as back-up," Damien said from the back.

"We didn't listen, obviously." Seth glanced down at his hands. "They kidnapped some of us."

Dean nodded and turned the key over, shifting into drive and heading for where the parking lot met the road. "I'm going to take a wild shot in the dark. Submissives? Something tells me your more dominant people could get themselves out of being taken as hostages."

"Actually, my mate is one of those _more dominant people_, and they beat him senseless and took him while he helped me escape." Seth did nothing to disguise the gravel in his voice and quickly turned his gaze to the window. "Being dominant means nothing when the numbers are stacked against you. No one went quietly. Roman just put up more of a fight than the rest of them."

"If I insulted your mate, it was unintentional and I'm sorry. I made an assumption." Dean shrugged, and Seth stared over at him; when did Hunters ever apologize or admit to mistakes?

Damien cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Roman is one of our best fighters, but Hunter and his men are all big and Roman was focused on helping Seth get out of there."

"They wanted him more than they wanted me anyway," Seth mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know why. But I could tell. They were content to let me get away."

"You don't know that, Seth," Damien said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Dean cleared his throat as he stopped at a red light. "I don't mean to make you feel worse or upset you, but usually, the more dominant a wereanimal is, the harder they are to break in interrogation. If they want information, they're better off not trying to pull it from strong guys."

"Or girls. There are dominant girls, too." Damien interjected it rapidly, and despite the dire circumstances, Seth found himself able to smile. Paige and AJ would flay them alive if they discovered that Damien and Seth had willingly let a Hunter believe the only dominant members of their clan were men, and rightly so. Humans didn't understand gender didn't matter.

"Why would your words have upset me?" Seth shrugged Damien's hand off and waved him back.

The pause made him tense. "If they prefer the thrill of breaking, a dominant takes much longer."

_The thrill of breaking. Oh, Christ, Roman..._ Seth knew there were wereanimals out there, that in nearly _all_ forms of preternatural, there were those who liked to challenge both the weak and the strong in an effort to break them. Whether that meant earning their submission or stealing their will to live, they would spend backbreaking hours inflicting pain of every kind upon their prey until the prey weakened enough to give in or give up. The thought of Roman being beaten like that made his stomach twist into complex knots nothing would ever be able to undo. They wouldn't, would they? If they did, if they even _tried,_ Seth would slaughter them and enjoy every fucking moment of their pain. And if they actually broke Roman, he would make sure to keep them tied down and heal them over and over if only so he could inflict more damage. He would _force_ them to live so he could drive them almost to death dozens of times.

Roman had done _everything_ for him. They barely knew each other when they first met, and still Roman had stepped in to help him when he realized Seth was just another teenage runaway from a bad family. Without knowing his last name—because Seth had no desire for Roman to find his birth family—Roman took him in and gave him a home, food, and a chance at a new life. It was maybe a year later when Seth finally realized he and Roman were meant to be together, that none of it was coincidence because it all led to that moment when he met his broody mate and they became bound for life. When someone so much as insulted him, Seth dealt with it because he wanted to repay Roman for all he had done for him, and it was the only way he knew how.

"It's a possibility. They might be doing it," Dean offered after a moment.

"Whether they are or _not,_ they have to die. Damien and I can't kill them alone. We need help. The kind of help you can provide." Seth raked a hand through his hair, mussing blond and black together and not giving a damn. "Most of our clan refuses to stand for fear of their mates dying."

Damien shifted slightly and leaned forward again. "Or they fled before it became their problem."

"I'll admit I don't know much about you guys other than what hurts the most and what kills you the fastest, but I thought that a rogue alpha was a problem for the entire clan?" Dean glanced at Seth, and he could see true puzzlement in the Hunter's eyes. He truly knew very little.

"If you run far enough and fast enough, it can't be your problem anymore." _Which is why so many of them ran. _"You can go into another territory and beg for sanctuary, and it is almost always provided. Or you can head into no man's land. Either way, an alpha's reach goes so far."

Damien nodded and continued on. "If Seth and I left this territory and went to another or went to an unclaimed territory, then Hunter and his men would risk inevitable death to come get us."

"Because a lot of no man's land is watched over by other creatures who are usually sympathetic to those running from insane or bloodthirsty leaders," Seth added.

"But you didn't run because your mates were taken." Dean seemed to consider a moment before nodding. "I like that. There are Hunters who would leave each other behind to save themselves."

"My kind mate for life and we are born with the instinct to protect and cherish our mate. Leaving Roman goes against everything I am and everything I feel for him, not to mention everything he did for me." Seth stretched a hand up to pat Damien on the cheek. "And Cody went through hell and back so he could be with Damien. Leaving them is just not an option. For others, it was."

Damien growled low in the back of his throat. "We kill _him_ as soon as we sort out these fucks."

One glance at Damien's suddenly murderous gaze answered Seth's unspoken question. "Yes. Preferably over an elongated period of time with silver blades. I want to see him scream."

"Who exactly are you two plotting to kill?" Dean asked, tone suddenly very interested.

Seth sighed and shook his head. "He's not your concern. We're hunting him on our own."

"If I'm helping you kill anyone, I think you can extend me some information." _Testy, isn't he?_

"One of our friends was taken hostage, and his mate left him behind. Didn't even try to save him or fight for him. Just bolted like a coward and left him to be taken. Damien fought. _I_ fought. But he ran." Seth was unable to contain a growl of his own and sank deeper into his seat, running both of his hands through his hair. "Drew's big, but he doesn't like to fight. Even for himself."

Damien nodded. "And among our kind, leaving your mate for certain death without a fight requires capital punishment. We intend to hand it out as soon as we hunt him down."

"You can borrow one of our interrogation rooms if you'd like." Dean shrugged, glancing away.

But Seth pounced on it. "You know nothing of our clan or our people. Why make that offer?"

"I understand loyalty." Dean pinned him with a suddenly solemn gaze. "And the lack of it."

_It's none of your business. Let it go._ "I might take you up on that interrogation room. I deal with people when I have to; I don't go hunting for trouble like some people believe of wereanimals. But Drew needed protecting, and Rusev failed to do it. He's not worth the loss of oxygen."

"I assure you we're on the same page." Dean nodded and smiled tightly at him.

Seth believed it; he knew little about the man sitting beside him, but the idea of betraying someone you were supposed to care for resonated with Dean. That was good. Maybe Seth could use that to sway him to their side once they reached his apartment. All he had to do was wield guns and knives to kill the bad guys. It was his job, so wouldn't he enjoy doing it anyway?

But there was also something tucked away inside of him that he was trying hard to keep buried. Had he been around nothing but humans and Hunters, it would have worked. Seth heard the way his pulse quickened and smelled the change in scent, though. He knew better, but he left it alone.

Damien broke the awkward silence. "We want to save our mates. We would if we could."

"But we just can't without manpower. A Hunter would change the odds markedly," Seth added.

"I understand that." Dean stopped in front of what looked like an old apartment. "Come inside?"

"Who else lives here? Humans? Hunters? Something else?" Seth scanned the windows he could see, searching for even an inkling of life. After all, they had to be very careful.

Dean shook his head. "No. I'm the only one here. I pay the rent for the entire building."

"What? Why?" Seth glanced back at Damien, who shrugged. Hunters lived in seclusion, but they rarely lived alone. "Is it a preference or is there an actual reason behind living alone?"

"People around me tend to die. Simple as that. I like people not dying." Dean pulled the key from the ignition a little rougher than necessary, and some inane part of Seth wanted to comfort the other man. Soothe the discomfort away, and why the fuck would he want to do that? "It's bad enough being a Hunter, but getting your neighbors killed... It's just not a good thing to happen."

Unable to stop himself, Seth stretched out a hand to touch Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

It was unsurprising when Dean tensed under his hand, but what shocked him was how quickly Dean relaxed and nodded tiredly at him. "I just get tired of innocent people dying. That's all. I can afford to pay the rent, and it lets me live in relative piece. No noisy neighbors or kids."

"Do you like saving innocent people, then? Keep them from dying?" _Move your hand, you fucking idiot._ But he couldn't. He sensed Dean needed it more than he would ever admit.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, and his smile seemed a little more genuine, less wistful. "Yeah, I do."

Seth felt that stupid urge again to pull Dean close and comfort him. He didn't even _know_ the man. "That's what we need help with. Our mates are innocent. We've done nothing wrong."

"I know. One of your people told me about it. Swagger?" Dean tested the name, and Seth sighed.

"Swagger was one of the first ones who bolted, back when Hunter taking over was more a fearful rumor than actual fact." Seth scowled slightly at the thought of the bastard; hopefully, Dean had put him through more pain than he could handle. "But yes. He was right. We need help."

Dean gestured toward the building. "Let's go inside and talk about this more, okay?"

"Okay." Seth finally removed his hand and unbuckled his seatbelt, ignoring Damien's stare.

"I have more weapons up there," Dean added. "Just in case anyone unfriendly shows up."

_Good thinking._ Seth would have killed for the feet of a gun or a knife in his hands, something he could use to defend himself without shifting. He quickly exited the car, shooting Damien an expression he hoped simply said _don't_ before rounding the car to follow the Hunter. If he knew why he had acted in such a strange way, it would be easy to dismiss Damien's words whatever they might happen to be. But Seth didn't have an answer for why he had touched Dean.

Dean paused at the doorway, allowing them to catch up. "We'll have to take the stairs. The elevator is one of those giant cages, and I don't really trust it all that much."

"Be a bad place to be caught in if one of your enemies suddenly stormed inside and wanted to cut a piece off of you," Seth mused, glancing up when Dean chuckled and nodded.

"That, too." He flipped through his keys before unlocking one of the front doors. "If you really want my help, money will have to be exchanged. My services aren't for free or pro bono."

_Fair enough._ "Roman and I are well enough off we can take care of that. Money is not an issue."

Dean nodded and opened the door, and Seth immediately caught it to open it farther for him. _What exactly are you trying to prove here, Seth?_ He pushed the little patronizing voice out of his head and ignored the frown Damien sent him; they could talk in private about this later.

Once they were inside, Dean locked the door from the inside. "No one's allowed inside without my permission. I'll be locking up when I show you out later on."

"I don't think someone trying to kill you would come through the front door," Damien mused.

"If they were human, they wouldn't know better than to just try picking the lock." Dean took in their expressions and raised an eyebrow. "Humans have come after me in the past."

_Hopefully, they're dead._ Seth bit back a growl of frustration and sent Damien a slightly panicked expression before following Dean to the stairs. They needed to procure Dean's services and leave. Maybe a night of sleep would help him center his thoughts and sort them out.

"It's four flights of stairs. I hope that's not a problem." Dean's tone suggested he didn't care.

Seth scoffed slightly and caught up with the Hunter, matching him stride for stride. "Our stamina is generally better than yours. Defense mechanism, or so I've been told."

"I suppose that stamina helps in other areas than just fighting," Dean relented.

_Other areas? What..? Oh._ "Is that a veiled question about my sex life? Because I can assure you that stamina extends to all areas of life, and that includes the bedroom."

"Seth," Damien warned, and Seth shot him a look. He hadn't said anything wrong yet.

Dean laughed and shook his head, combing his fingers through short hair. "I'll remember that."

The trip upstairs was depression. Each set broke off into a sort of balcony that led to the rooms on each floor, and knowing every single one of them was empty depressed Seth more than he thought possible. He wasn't quite sure why; maybe it just had to do with the fact that he felt empty without Roman or something psychological like that, but that didn't feel right. Damn straight he felt fractured without Roman beside him, but there was more to it than that this time.

"We're here," Dean announced when they stepped off onto the final landing, approaching the door tucked into the corner. "It's not much, but that's home."

As soon as he stepped inside, Seth finally clarified his own feelings because his heart all but shattered when he realized how sparse Dean's apartment was. It contained furniture, but nothing to personalize it. The place was all cream and beige, nondescript; it could have been an anonymous room in a commercial, except it lacked photographs of any kind. Or mementos and decoration. It felt more like a hotel room than an apartment that had obviously been lived in for years if the scent was anything to go by. Dean had lived here all alone like this? _That_ ached.

"Like I said, not much. Let me get something to drink." Dean disappeared into another room.

Damien brushed against him, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I couldn't live like this."

Seth said nothing but silently agreed as he used his rather excellent night vision to locate an end table with a lamp on it. The faint golden glow did little to soften how empty the place was, and the illusion of warmth fell flat. How could anyone live like this and stay sane for any length of time? The apartment he and Roman shared was obviously theirs; their possessions and photographs filled the place, proclaiming they belonged to it and it to them. This was bare of life.

"Coke okay? I don't really drink anything else." Dean reappeared, holding three cans.

"It's fine. Thank you." Seth bit his tongue to hold back what he wanted to say—_why aren't you here like you should be?_—and cracked open the can when Dean passed it to him. "It's quiet."

Dean dropped down on the couch. "That's one of the best things about this place. It's peaceful."

_Too peaceful._ The quiet would drive Seth mad if he lived here, but if the solitariness was the feature Dean appreciated the most, he had chosen rather well. Seth sent Damien a look before sitting on the couch, pleased when Damien assented and chose the chair. Contact wasn't something Seth wanted at the moment, and he doubted Dean wanted to share the couch.

"How many of your people were taken?" Dean asked as he open his can, taking a sip.

"Around a dozen." Seth glanced at Damien, who nodded. "Roman was the only dominant taken."

Damien sat his Coke on the table and braced his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together in front of him. "Roman, Drew, Heath, and Cody are the ones we're the most worried about. Selfish, maybe, but it is what it is. Roman and Cody are ours, and Drew and Heath are good friends. The other eight... Of them, seven of their mates are forcefully with Hunter."

"And what happened to the eight one?" Dean asked when Damien said no more.

"We're not entirely sure. He vanished. But he's not a runner," Seth explained.

The Hunter's pale blue eyes flashed with disbelief. "But he wasn't taken by these guys?"

"He might have gone for help." Seth shrugged. "Mike doesn't run. He loves Dolph too much."

"Maybe he went for help, then. How many men does Hunter have?" To the point. Good.

"About six, give or take." Damien paused, then straightened slightly. "Only two of them are a major problem. Dave and Randy are their names. I think the others are in there by force."

Seth nodded in agreement. "Bray is... Off, but I think he'd be a _good_ off if not for Hunter."

"He might even help if he thought we had a chance at taking Hunter down." Damien smiled.

Dean stayed quiet through the exchange, but Seth turned to him once the conversation halted. There was no way to guess what the Hunter was thinking, but he hoped it would help them recover their mates and repair their clan. If not, they would have to keep looking for help.

Which would be disastrous. Any time their mates were forced to remain with those bastards was excess time they were in danger, and that was not acceptable in any sense of the term.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat and sat up straighter, combing a hand through his hair and more or less permeating the air with his scent, albeit fresher than what already filled the room. Seth would have to make Roman smell him. "Six, plus whichever of your clan are allied with them. I don't like those odds, but they're not unbeatable. I just need to call in for reinforcements."

Seth sagged in his seat as relief washed over him in a warm, soothing wave; Dean was agreeing to help them. And he wanted to bring in _more_ Hunters. It was better than they could have expected, and he made a mental note to find a way to repay Dean for this because it was more than most Hunters would be willing to take on. Money wouldn't be enough; Seth would owe him a life debt and he would damn sure repay it because Dean was doing him such a great service.

"There are very few Hunters I trust with my life, and I'm not calling in anyone I don't." Dean leaned back, falling silent, and Seth studied his face; he kept a perfect poker face while thinking, but a tumult of emotions danced in his eyes just the same. "I'll call in Wade and Sheamus, but anyone else would be a mistake. The more men we take in, the messier it'll be."

_Interesting idea. _But it made little sense to Seth; numbers had been what thwarted them the first time, and apparently he hadn't stressed that very well when he explained what happened to them. "More people would be safer. We were almost killed because they outnumbered us, and if they shift? Then it'll be a bloodbath. I don't think just two more men will win this."

Dean tenses up again, eyes flashing with anger, and the urge is all too strong this time; Seth is at his side a moment later, ignoring Damien's choked gasp. Instead, he nuzzles up under Dean's chin and presses up against him, feeling the Hunter tense even further before finally relaxing; a hand stole into his hair to stroke his scalp. So contact _was_ what Dean needed... But how in the fuck was Seth to know something like that? He needed to carefully check himself.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against Dean's neck, feeling the Hunter shudder slightly most likely from the unexpected warmth. His skin was surprisingly cool. "I insulted you and your friends, and I'm sorry. If you think two more is best, then call two more."

The hand in his hair lightly tugged and Seth followed the movement, allowing himself to be drawn back. "Hunters are better in small groups. Wade and Sheamus are incredibly skilled."

"I've not heard of them before," Damien said, but the tone in his voice made the hairs on the back of Seth's neck stand up and he growled before he could stop.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him, then glanced at Damien before retuning his gaze to Seth. "Well, that's because they deal with covert things. This will likely end up being pretty covert."

Seth titled his head slightly. "But you don't do covert. So why are you agreeing to do it?"

Dean simply gave him that _let it go_ look, and Seth nodded before nuzzling back against his jaw, breathing in his scent. He was simply too intoxicating to _not_ breathe in, and besides, Dean relaxed further and kept petting his hair. Whatever had happened to make him so touch-starved needed to be dealt with, but for now, Seth could provide the touch he wanted.

"So, from what you saw when you were fighting them, how dangerous as these guys?" Dean asked, and Seth shot Damien a look; he hadn't seen as much of the fight as his friend.

Damien drummed his fingers on the side of his can. "I think it's more a numbers game than anything else, but I could be wrong. They had a teamwork thing going on, but I think pulling some of them out would help. Or taking some of them down. Might help tip things in our favor, if you know what I mean." He shrugs before standing and pacing over to one of the windows, and Seth wonders just how well Damien is holding up. Maybe he's given him too much credit.

Not that he's had reason prior to now to think Damien is close to the edge; he's held up so well thus far, and as far as Seth can tell, the other man has handled everything well. While Seth fell apart and raged during the first few days after Roman had been taken, Damien had remained stoic if frustrated about the situation. But while Seth went on constant runs to cut through his energy down, as sleep was impossible without being so exhausted he was on the verge of dropping, Damien had remained behind, lost in thought. He wasn't quiet by nature but Seth wrote it off as a reaction to Cody being gone. Maybe Damien was just as upset as he was.

He felt guilty for brushing off Damien's feelings because he was too wrapped up in his own; out of all of their clan, only Damien had allied with him and agreed to do anything to free their mates. Hell, he should've returned the favor and made sure Damien was doing okay.

The hand in his hair suddenly deepened its strokes, and he pressed up into it without realizing it until Dean startled beside him. _Calm the fuck down, Rollins, you're acting like a bitch in heat and Ambrose doesn't know how to deal with that._ He forced himself to calm down and backed up slightly, but he couldn't go very far with Dean's hand lost in his hair.

"This whole thing's been hell on you guys, huh?" Dean asked, and Seth nodded silently.

Dean said nothing for a moment, then simply combed his fingers through Seth's hair again. "Don't you worry. We'll bring them back."

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for the support, you guys. Considering I haven't written wrestling fanfiction in years and this was my first stab at it, it's good to know I still got it. =)**_


	3. Chapter Two

_**Could You Use A Little Company?**_

The sound of footsteps nearing his little prison stirred Roman out of his light doze, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position as his eyes snapped to the doorway silently.

Being here was better than Seth being here. When he was at his lowest, barely able to hold onto his sanity through the pain inflicted upon him, he kept repeating that it could be Seth. Seth would have broken by now, and Roman was still able to hold on. He could deal with this and that alone kept him able to deal with it day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute. It was the kind of pain someone as gentle and loving as Seth would never be able to survive.

It had taken him minutes alone in his cell to realize that things were not as they appeared. From the outside, watching his pack being taken over and Daniel disappearing under very suspicious circumstances, it seemed obvious to him. Hunter was the kind of abusive bastard who needed to be killed in order to stop him from taking lives, but before anyone had a chance to dole out justice appropriately, he had managed to curtail them and gain the upper hand.

From the outside, he was sure he had it figured out. Not all of Hunter's men were on his side; some of them had likely been dragged along from other packs and all they needed was someone to come in and free them. They weren't all bad guys and some of them could be saved with the proper help. But once Roman had sat back and listened to what was going on around him, eavesdropping on the conversations between Hunter and his men—things weren't so simple.

His eyes darted up when a dark figure appeared in the doorway, a set of keys rattling before the door swung in. Though the room was kept very dim, Roman had incredible night vision and could easily pick out which of Hunter's men stood in front of him. Taker wasn't the biggest of the men but he was easily the most recognizable and, oddly enough, not at all like the others.

"You need to sleep at some point, kid," he said gruffly as he knelt in front of Roman.

Scoffing softly, Roman shook his head. "You know what happens if I get caught asleep."

"Doesn't make sleep any less of a necessary aspect of your life, you know." Taker's hand came up, gently skimming over Roman's cheek, careful of the bruises no doubt marring his skin if the ache in his face was anything to go by. "Fuck. Doesn't Dave understand restraint?"

"Don't think he understands much of anything, actually." Roman closed his eyes, allowing himself to be gently pet as Taker brushed his hair back out of his eyes, examining the bruises on his throat, down his shoulders and chest. Contact that didn't cause pain was welcome.

Brief silence followed by a soft snort. "That's no shit. How are you holding up in here? They haven't come at you with anything silver yet, have they? Kevin doesn't want silver used."

The name made Roman's jaw tighten. Within minutes of conversation, he had learned that Hunter was just a puppet, a face to pin the blame on if all hell broke loose. The man—Kevin—Roman hadn't seen yet and he wasn't sure he ever would. But it put things in perspective and he actually felt the slightest twinge of pity for the big blond who supposedly ran their pack now. Being beaten down into such a low state was something to be pitied, after all.

"Nothing silver yet," he confirmed, tilting his head to the side so Taker could see the finger-shaped bruises no doubt spanning the width of his throat; oxygen deprivation was rough but he had survived it just fine. "He's chomping at the bit, though. It'll get used without permission."

"I'll make sure Kevin knows the situation. Dave might be a loose cannon, but pissing Kevin off is something no one wants to do." Taker sat back, looking Roman over silently.

Roman nodded and fixed his eyes on the floor. "Good to know someone's on my side."

"More than just me. You've got pack who managed to get away, remember." Taker ruffled his hair, no doubt trying to calm him. It failed immediately. "You'll make it through this."

"I still don't understand why you're working with _him,_" Roman muttered at the floor.

Taker sighed heavily, glancing behind him, no doubt straining for the sound of footsteps just in case. There were none. "You are far from the only ones he has imprisoned. He has my boys."

"Boys?" Roman inquired. "Sons? Mates? Pack? I don't exactly know what you're saying."

"My mates. Both of them." Taker winced and Roman bit down on his lower lip, suddenly sympathizing with the bigger man. Had Kevin taken Seth, Roman would have bowed to him if only to make sure Seth lived. "As soon as I have them free, though, he loses my allegiance."

That was good news, at least. Taker was big, bigger than Roman and he might pose a serious threat when the pack eventually showed up to take the submissives back. After all, enough of them had made it out before things had gone to hell. Help just _had_ to be on the way in some form.

Seth, at least, would bring help. There was no way he would give up everything they had shared in order to run, and that was something Roman knew was truth as sure as he knew that Seth was the man destined to be his everything from the very beginning. Sure, part of it was simple werewolf stubbornness; werewolves refused to take insults or attacks to their mates lying down because they mated for life and they needed each other. But more than that, Seth truly loved him. Their bond was unique and nothing would ever convince either of them to give it up.

It was that hope that allowed Roman to hold on even when the torture was dished out. Seth was his everything and would soon come with help to save all of them. Even if his last moment was spent looking up into his mate's face as everything fell into chaos around him, so be it. Roman would fight with all of his strength to see Seth one last time and assure him he wasn't a failure and that he had done all he could to fix things no matter what he ended up doing.

"Dave's on the way. I have to go check on the others." Taker stood, but Roman could sense it took all of the big man's self-control not to stay and fight back against this injustice.

"Make sure they're all still alive," Roman whispered, chewing on his lower lip.

Taker nodded once and leaned forward, gently patting the top of his head. "I'll make sure of it."

Kevin had ordered all of them to be _interrogated,_ and the submissives were barely holding onto themselves as the pain was doled out. Last night, Roman had been forced to listen to Drew screaming for mercy while in another cell, Heath shouted at them to leave Drew alone, to cut him up instead if they wanted information—it was awful listening to that. Heath and Drew were the best of friends and might very well be more than that one day, and it had to kill one when the other was being beaten and sliced. Roman couldn't imagine how much it would hurt.

As he was the only dominant down here, he had strove to stay as quiet as possible even when the pain had become overwhelming and he passed out the first time. He wanted to be strong for his fellow pack members, and it wasn't easy but it was the task he was to complete at the moment. Once they were free, he could look back on this and seriously figure out what it all meant, but for now he had to be strong. Nothing but strong. Showing weakness would only hurt him now.

The sound of more footsteps forced him to sit up once again, making his spine as straight as possible considering the full-body ache he was sporting. If it was time to deal with more pain, he would have to grit his teeth and bear it. All he knew for sure was that none of them had found Seth; he would have smelled his mate the moment they brought him into the building, and as long as they didn't have Seth, they would never have Roman's cooperation. It was all he had.

Dave wasn't alone but had brought someone with him that Roman didn't readily recognize. Tall, broad-shouldered but not nearly as cut as the others, dark skin and slicked back black hair. Mexican, maybe, and werewolf. Roman knew the scent of wolves better than he knew the scents of other cats; it was a result of having woken up with his face in Seth's hair for years.

"Look who's awake." Dave unlocked the door and stepped inside, waving for the other man to follow him. "Alberto, I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting Roman just yet."

The werewolf—Alberto—shook his head silently and braced his back against the wall. "I've no desire to. Do what you have to do so we can leave. I don't want to spend the night down here."

_Mexican, then._ The accent was easy to place and Roman made a mental note to remember the name and face for later. There was tension about the other man that suggested to Roman he truly did not want to be down here. Maybe he was just another hostage of Kevin's. Like Taker.

"Patience. This one won't crack like the others. He's quiet. Less fun to play with. I still haven't found what makes him itch yet." Dave dropped the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder to the floor, the ominous clanks and clatters inside making Roman's stomach twist in worry.

Alberto sighed and shook his head. "No. Do what you need to do so we can leave soon. Now."

"Kill joy." Dave knelt and unzipped the bag, retrieving a knife Roman knew all too well. The blade wasn't silver, but getting cut still hurt like a bitch no matter the metal used.

"_I'm_ not the sadistic son of a bitch who likes cutting up the pretty bitches." Alberto's voice dripped with disgust; Roman could relate. "And I don't like having to baby-sit your stupidity."

Dave snorted and moved to stand in front of Roman, one hand twisting in Roman's sweaty, matted hair and yanking his head back. "This one isn't a bitch, though. That's why he's fun."

Roman said nothing, just clamped his jaw shut and braced himself for the inevitable, his eyes following the blade even in the dim lighting. Though he knew he had nothing to give any of them—he had no idea where Seth was or where he would have gone, after all—it still frightened him that he might let loose with something he shouldn't. As to what that something would be, he had no idea. But he didn't want to risk it and say something that would only further endanger his pack. How could he ever expect them to forgive him if he endangered all of them? He couldn't. So he braced himself for the pain and kept his eyes on the knife even when it neared him.

The cold edge of the blade brushed along his cheekbone, barely touching the skin and not firmly enough to draw blood or even leave a scratch. It was that kind of play that made him nervous about when the true first strike would come. By keeping him off-balance and unable to predict what would come next, Dave scared him. Roman hated admitting it, but he was afraid.

Fingers tightened in his hair and yanked, throwing him bodily across the small room until he slammed against the concrete wall. The force of the hit jarred him and made every bone in his body twitch slightly, all of them no doubt on the edge of breaking from the throw alone. Too smart to add fuel to the fire, he refused to move even when Dave's shadow fell across him. If Dave couldn't kill him and couldn't use silver on him, how bad could it truly be? It was nothing. He could survive this. If he could stomach his fear and use it to his advantage in some way, he would continue to last and he would see Seth as soon as Seth brought a rescue squad.

Sharp kicks to his sides sent him onto his stomach, a humiliating position for him but one he could maintain with much more ease than others. Still, being on his hands and knees made him feel weak and he hated it. He wanted to reel back and shift, go tooth and claw for the bastard's throat but he knew it would be all for naught when one if his buddies showed up with a gun and blew Roman's brains out in retaliation. He _had_ to live for Seth. He _had_ to.

The tip of the blade sank into the back of his shoulder blade hard and fast enough to strike bone, the pain jolting his body and making his muscles clench. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to endure the pain as Dave dragged the blade down, splitting his skin open and sending sticky hot blood spilling from the wound. It wasn't silver. It wouldn't scar. Within an hour, the skin would knit back together and he would be okay. All he had to do was make it through this and he would be fine as soon as it stopped. Wereleopards had one of the highest rates of healing, and the idiots who tortured him hadn't figured that out yet.

Their loss. The more he knew and the less they did, the better. Everything he could use against them, he would. And he was damn sure not going to give them any more ammo than he already had. They were going to have to work with their limited knowledge and fuck the rest.

"Still gonna stay quiet for me, pretty boy? Don't feel like chatting?" Dave's tone was low, antagonistic. He wanted Roman to lash out; it was clear from his tone, the energy he gave off.

Roman licked his dry lips and said nothing. If he broke and did as the man above him wanted, he would pay in spades and he had no desire to deal with more pain than he was already getting.

"He _is_ quiet," Alberto mused. "Interesting. I don't think any of ours could've lasted this long."

Dave snarled while Roman smirked at the insult. "He's just a stubborn bitch. He _will_ break."

"No one can break Roman, you stupid fuck," an all-too-familiar voice spat, and Roman willed Tyler to shut up _now_ before he ended up getting himself in more trouble.

"Now _that_ one is talkative," Dave said, and Roman opened his eyes to see the big man straightening. "Think I'll take a shot at him again tonight. He cries, but he'll spill soon enough."

Tyler scoffed and Roman picked him out across the room. "Just try me, motherfucker."

Dave actually advanced toward the cell door and Roman's pulse thundered in his ears as he made the only choice he knew for sure would keep Tyler safe. As soon as he had ample room, he pounced on Dave's back and sank his teeth into the side of the man's neck, drawing blood.

"Son of a _bitch!_" Dave twisted, slamming Roman's back into the bars.

He had already started. Might as well finish and ensure Tyler's outburst would be forgotten.

Shifting only certain body parts took a lot of strength and Roman had almost none to draw on, but he dug in as deep as he could and forced that energy into his teeth. Human teeth gave way to leopard fangs, sinking deeper into Dave's throat until he let out a choked, guttural sound and shifted violently, throwing Roman off and into the opposite wall with ease.

The shaggy black wolf snarled, advancing on him, but Alberto was quick to intercept.

"You can't. Kevin will kill you if you even give it a try," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

Roman dragged his arm across his mouth, wiping away the blood and turning to spit a piece of meat onto the ground. _Disgusting._ Human flesh tasted bad and he never understood how any of his kind could stomach the taste long enough to become killers. Then he turned his eyes to Alberto's back, listening to Dave's enraged growl before the wolf shouldered through the door.

A heavy sigh left the man before him before he turned and knelt, extending a hand toward Roman's face. He was a stranger, true enough, but Roman clamped his jaw shut and forced himself to let the man touch his bloodied face. As it was, his back ached violently and he was sure being thrown had torn his wound open more. Blood made his back sticky and warm.

"If I hadn't been in here with you, he could have killed you," Alberto said simply.

Roman nodded slowly, pushing his hair back out of his face. "I couldn't let him hurt Tyler."

"You aren't even their alpha and you try to protect them." Alberto sat back on his heels, tilting his head and staring long enough to make Roman twitch. "How very intriguing."

_Why is it intriguing?_ Any dominant would do his best to protect a submissive no matter what it took, and Roman was no exception. Even given his spirited nature and his smart mouth, Tyler was small and true to Dave's words, he had cried every time one of the bastards imprisoning them had attacked him. It was heart wrenching to listen to and Roman had no intentions of sitting idly by and allowing someone else to be harmed in his stead. That was all kinds of wrong.

More footsteps. Alberto stood up and moved away long before two more men entered the room; Roman recognized both of them on sight and tensed up. Randy was long and leaner than most of the others his size, but he was still tight muscle and reeked of dominance so thickly even Roman felt uncomfortable pinned by his sharp blue eyes. Hunter was maybe an inch shorter and even more thickly muscled, and the way he strode forward and caught Roman by the throat quickly reminded him why he had thought Hunter was truly the alpha in the equation. With one easy yank, Roman was on his feet and pinned face-first against the wall, leaving his exposed and injured back helpless. His jaw tightened as he awaited the blows likely to come.

"Dave cut too deep," Randy said, and Roman's brow furrowed at the words. _What?_

"He always does." Hunter sounded agitated, and then a warm if rough hand was on Roman's back, right over the wound. He tensed but no further abuse came. "Get some peroxide. Now."

Alberto shifted slightly. "I'll leave you gentlemen to your business, then."

Footsteps leaving. Roman licked his lips and allowed his eyes to fall closed, aware that Hunter was right behind him and could easily rip his back open. But he didn't. Instead, he smoothed his hand down the wound lightly so as not to aggravate the skin. Soothing the wound, maybe.

"You're going to get yourself killed if you do that again," Hunter said quietly.

Roman glanced at him over his shoulder, forcing his eyelids open once again. "So be it. If I have to die to protect the people in my pack, I _will._ That's what being a pack is supposed to mean."

"Is that what you want me to tell your little puppy when he shows up looking for you?" Hazel eyes narrowed in irritation. "Because he _will_ come and with your luck, you'll be dead."

_Seth._ "I'll be just fine when he comes for me. I can't say the same for your men, though."

"They aren't my men." Hunter smoothed Roman's hair away from his face. "You tore him up."

"I did what I had to do to protect Tyler. Given the chance, though, I would've gone for the jugular a little faster." Roman tried for a smirk and hoped he somewhat succeeded.

Randy returned with the peroxide a moment later, and Hunter slowly lowered Roman to the floor with far more care than anyone else had shown him minus Taker. Curious. This was the man who had appeared to command the attack on the pack, and yet here he was, making sure Roman didn't hurt himself as he was set on the floor. A strong but gentle hand carefully pulled his hair away from his back, draping it over one of his shoulders, and then both Randy and Hunter were kneeling behind him as a cold, wet cloth dabbed along the throbbing line of his cut.

A soft sigh breathed across Roman's skin. "Fuck. We can't let Dave get at him again like this."

Hunter made a noise of agreement and the two continued doctoring the cut, leaving Roman to wonder what the fuck was going on. Prior to now, he was left to bleed every time he was beaten and bloodied. He wondered if Taker had something to do with this but assumed not since Kevin apparently had both of Taker's mates help captive somewhere. So why had these two changed?

Roman had been certain they were fucking evil from the beginning and his mind was itching as he struggled to process this turn of events. Maybe it was simply a trick to earn his trust and then turn it around on him to hurt him. But what would be the point? Surely they knew he wasn't stupid enough to trust either of them no matter how gently they treated his wounds.

The possibility of them simply being nice was too stupid to consider for more than the time it took to discard it. Even if they had had changes of heart, they wouldn't risk being caught and punished to care for his wounds. No one could be that stupid and certainly not these two. He would just have to watch them and try to figure out their motives before Seth returned for him.

As they cared for him, though, the pain in his back began to ebb and he realized he'd lost track of how long they had been down here. If the pain was dissipating, that meant the wound was slowly healing and it took at least twenty minutes or more for him to heal with limited food and water.

"Best I can do without medical supplies," Randy finally said. "Are you cold down here, Roe?"

_Since when the fuck do any of these sons of bitches call me that?_ "I'm fine." But he wasn't. Left only in a pair of bloody, torn jeans, he was cold every single time night began to fall. Like now.

Neither of them believed him, obviously, because in the next moment he was sandwiched between them and wrapped in warm skin. He'd missed them taking off their shirts and it was strange, having two men who weren't Seth touching him, holding him—it was enough to make him certain there was _something_ not right here and he wasn't sure exactly what it was.

Randy's lips whispered along his jaw and Roman's eyes widened in realization. "Don't lie to us. We're two of three people who want you alive for reasons other than info you don't have."

"How do you know I don't know anything?" Roman demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Because there's nothing for you to have," Hunter answered simply, the words a low rumble in Roman's ear. "Your people knew nothing about the attack until it came and I highly doubt you and your little puppy dog had time to exchange a plan before we dragged you here."

Roman fell silent at that, not knowing what to say—he was having his own logic tossed back in his face and had no idea how to respond to it, not really. They were basically telling him what he had known for a long time, that there was nothing to get out of him because there was no secret plan for him to be aware of. If Seth knew anything, Seth was the only one who knew. He understood why the men running this little siege believed otherwise, but unless they started truly searching for someone to tell them what they wanted to know, they weren't going to get anything they could use. If there was anything for them to use in the first place, that was.

Which he didn't even knew what the point of this was in the first place. They weren't coming in for just recruits because Roman's pack didn't specialize in big, brawny guys like Hunter and Randy; they specialized in smaller, faster guys like their former alpha, Daniel—wherever he was now—and Seth. Roman was one of the oddities, of course, and there were a few more, but in this pack they were the oddities and had realized that a long, long time ago.

To Roman's knowledge, their pack wasn't any more special than others in roughly the same area; they were just a usual pack, albeit with a bunch of random wereanimals thrown into the mix as opposed to just one solid species. It was more because Daniel had been taken in by wereanimals who weren't the same as him and realized quickly they could all band together and take care of each other instead of sticking to their respective groups for stupid and usually bigoted reasons. Roman agreed with it strongly; he and Seth were different and yet they worked perfectly.

"What does your alpha want from us?" he settled for asking, his thoughts taking him nowhere.

Hunter heaved a sigh in his ear and shrugged. "I have no idea. He hasn't told us that much."

"We just do what we're told," Randy added softly. "If we ask questions, he just ignores us."

"So you just blindly do whatever he tells you to do even though you have no idea why you're doing it in the first place." God, they just _sounded_ like idiots and Roman bristled.

Warm hands brushed down his bare sides, attempting to soothe and calm him probably. "No, we don't blindly do anything. Just because we don't know the destination doesn't mean we don't see the journey, Roman." Hunter sighed. "And we have good reason to do what he tells us to do."

"And until we have what's ours back, then he'll just continue to hold it over our heads, using it to sway us to do his bidding." Randy shrugged and pressed his cheek to Roman's, the close contact startling, not to mention a little dangerous. "You're a cat, right? I can smell it on you."

"He's a black leopard. I saw him shift in battle," Hunter answered, and Roman growled.

Randy hummed softly and sat back. "That's not an animal that's suited for the cold, Roman."

Roman huffed and said nothing even though it was true; winters were brutal on him because he wasn't suited for the cold at all. Having grown up in a hot environment, used to warmth and cool breezes instead of freezing cold, he had suffered every winter since moving up north.

Seth took the cold well with thick fur and a familiarity with the area. When he realized how cold Roman got, he started going with Roman on runs so that they could curl up together out of the wind and Seth could warm him back up. In human form, it was preposterous because he was much bigger than Seth but animal form relegated them to right about the exact same size.

"Why exactly are you two playing so nice?" Roman demanded, tensing up between them.

Hunter sighed again, and Roman shivered at the breath across his skin. "You were being hurt."

"For defending myself, yes. I'm aware of that." Roman slanted a glare back at him. "So?"

"So you either face up to the fact you have some allies here or you'll get killed long before your mate comes for you," Randy said simply, and Roman whipped his head around to look at him.

It occurred to him that if Hunter had been an alpha that Kevin had beaten down into this, Randy might very well have been Hunter's second-in-command; they moved like a well-oiled machine, after all, so it wasn't impossible. Which meant that whatever pack they had once led together, they were no doubt ready to lead once again. It might be that very pack Kevin was using against them, or it might be their mates, or possibly children because Roman doesn't know the extent of their families. But it didn't convince him they were his allies in the least.

Randy rubbed their cheeks together, and Roman hissed softly. "I know what I'm doing, thanks."

"Getting my scent all over you isn't going to help you trick your alpha into thinking you're following his rules." Roman pulled his head back. "If anything, he might think we're fucking."

"No, thank you. I have someone else," Randy said, his tone slightly amused.

Roman growled. He just couldn't help it at this point. "You are pushing in a dangerous way."

"And you're pushing just as badly, aren't you? Damn near killed one of Kevin's favorite interrogators in the process, at that." Randy grabbed his chin roughly and Roman snarled, prepared to bite whatever was in his reach if he had a chance. "And the only reason you are still alive is because Kevin is convinced you know something. As to what you apparently know, I have no idea, but you have no friends in our pack beyond myself, Hunter, and Taker. Yes, I know about that. I know about _everything_ and unless you keep your mouth shut and your manners in check, you're going to get chewed up, spit out, and then killed. Understand?"

Roman licked his lips once and nodded, the most he could manage at the time. He was suddenly exhausted and slumped as soon as Hunter and Randy moved away, taking the warmth with them. For whatever reason, he glanced up at them as they walked away.

"And Roman?" Hunter turned to face him. "Keep your teeth to yourself, too."

* * *

_**A/N: Someone once asked me if I had any advice for people reading my stories. My advice was this: Never believe you know what's going to happen next because I will curve ball you in one way or another. We all like Kevin Nash, right? Right? I would hope so. Thank you for the amazing support on this story. Next chapter we go back to Dean's point of view and I know you're all wondering what's going on in his head after his little display of affection with one Seth Rollins.**_


	4. Chapter Three

**_Can't Slow Down_  
**

It had been far, far too long since Dean Ambrose had last called in a favor.

Wade reflected on that as he hung up the phone and stared at it where it rested in its cradle, mentally reviewing what he had been told as part of Dean's desire to have him and Sheamus ride to the rescue. Considering Dean preferred to work alone most of the time and steadily refused help from nearly anyone who offered—even if the case damn near demanded it. Too many times, Wade had been forced to ride in like the Calvary and save the younger Hunter from getting his ass devoured, killed, or mutilated by whatever he happened to be fighting. For Dean to call in a favor now, though… The situation had to be serious and Wade had no idea what that meant.

He cracked his knuckles and returned to the kitchen when Sheamus was pouring over a map, murmuring to himself as he traced the colored lines with one finger. As soon as Dean told Wade that he had no idea where the other submissives were being kept, Wade turned immediately to Sheamus and told him to do his best to track them down. They had almost nothing to work with, but given far less, Sheamus had turned up all sorts of hiding places and ritual grounds in the past. He was incredibly talented, which was most likely the only reason the other Hunters tolerated having a half-breed among them. After all, it took a lot for one of them to learn to tolerate being allies with something they typically hunted down and killed on request.

"Found anything?" he asked, lowering himself into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Not yet. There's something there, though. I'm just having trouble… Centering it." Sheamus's brows furrowed and Wade nodded in understanding. Though he understood little of the man's true powers, he did know about Sheamus's tracking abilities. "I don't even think I'm getting a pull on location. It's more like… I'm getting a pull on _people,_ if that makes any sense."

Wade frowned and cocked his head. "You don't normally get a pull on people, though, do you? I mean… In all the time we've worked together, you've never gotten a pull from people."

Sheamus's broad shoulders shrugged and Wade bit down on his lower lip in thought; Sheamus's powers were more about finding large imbalances of residual energy often left over from rituals, sacrifices… Even wereanimal groups shifting alphas left those behind. It was the latter Sheamus was searching from; Dean told Wade the former alpha of this group they were searching for was unseated, and it was the only lead they had. If Sheamus couldn't find anything, then they would have to start strategically combing the city for answers. They didn't have that kind of time anymore, and Wade was hoping that Sheamus found _something_ just to give them somewhere to start. The city was far too big for them to just start from nowhere, after all.

"There's something, but it doesn't feel like what we're looking for," Sheamus finally said, tapping a spot on the map. "I'm not even sure what's here. It's in the middle of the countryside."

"Better than nothing," Wade said, standing and reaching for his jacket.

A hand closed around his upper arm, preventing him from leaving the room. "It feels like wereanimal. In which case, I'm not letting you leave the house at night. That's suicide."

"I've handled my own against wereanimal groups before. 's how I found you, remember, O'Shaunessy?" Wade tugged at his arm but Sheamus refused to let go, so he sighed and leaned his back against the counter. "Look, I understand that it isn't the safest idea to go out right now, but the longer we put off doing something about this, the worse things will get before they stop."

He was right and he knew it. There was no way around _not_ going tonight, not if things were as bad as Dean claimed they were. Considering the long scar running down his back, Wade had no love for wereanimals and gladly would have let them all die if given the chance because it left him with fewer people to protect. But he begrudgingly had to admit that they protected their land fiercely and kept a lot of bigger, nastier creatures at bay with simple group dynamics. Alphas had to be strong to earn their position—killing was the only way to do so, really—and so they had a lot of punch on their own. Not to mention that wereanimals were some of the only creatures willing to help the Hunters, and having claws and teeth wasn't a bad advantage to have.

But at the same time, it was risky going out at night and there was no telling what wereanimals Sheamus felt out in the countryside. They could be random wereanimals who refused to join the pack for one reason or another, or they could be the enemy. If it was the former, it would be a colossal waste of time to go near them and if it was the latter, it would be suicide just like Sheamus said it would. Sighing irritably, Wade let himself be set back down at the table.

It could wait until morning. If Dean had just received the case mere hours ago, then perhaps they still had enough time left to let it wait until morning. Besides, getting themselves killed would only cause problems—how would they help these wereanimals whose lovers were taken from them if they could no longer fight? Wade growled softly and rocked back in his chair, not wanting to go there. He had far too much experience with nearly having his lover taken from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was think about it again. That was not comforting at all.

"We'll see what we can find tomorrow morning," Sheamus said, taking his seat once again and turning his attention back to the map. "It doesn't feel like a large signature, not as large as the one we're looking for, but at this point, I'd like to know exactly who's giving it off."

"Why, exactly? If it's not who we're looking for…" Wade trailed off, brows furrowed in confusion. Though he tried to puzzle out power signatures and what they meant to the other man, he didn't have very much experience with them himself. He hated having to ask questions.

Sheamus's brow arched and a brief look of amusement crossed the Irishman's face. "Because they haven't been taken yet. If they had been, I wouldn't feel such a small signature."

"Ah." Wade pretended to understand in lieu of actual understanding; it worked quite well most of the time because Sheamus never pressed him to understand more than he wanted to at any given time. It worked. _They_ worked and Wade had to keep reminding himself that it likely wouldn't last. Enemies with a vengeance could and would take away everything they had together as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He needed to brace himself for that. Because it _would_ come. He knew it would. "So, any theories as to why they're separated?"

Sheamus paused, obviously thinking it over, and Wade waited patiently for his response. Their job was far from a science, after all. It was almost all murky theory. "I've no idea. I'm sure the former alpha let them off with not joining for his own reasons, but if this new leader is half as bad as Dean's made him sound, I don't know why he'd let them stay on their own. Which is another reason why we should go see them when it's more likely they'll be in skin, not fur."

"I got the point the first time, love. No need to keep rubbing it in." Wade stared up at the ceiling, running over the information Dean had given him. Obviously, the guy who had orchestrated this—some bloke called Hunter—was looking for something if he kept the submissives behind. It could be as simple as enjoying the art of breaking them, but Wade felt it was something more.

He always called it intuition because he had no idea where these feelings came from that pushed him toward one direction of thought or another. Sighing softly, he let his chair legs thump back down on the tiled floor of the kitchen before pushing himself to his feet. Sheamus glanced up at him, no doubt assuring himself Wade was not going to bolt for the door and head off into parts unknown in the middle of the night. Wade rolled his eyes at him and headed for the refrigerator.

"You know… There is _one_ particular reason I might be getting that strange pull to someone rather than the normal general pull," Sheamus mused, and Wade felt his muscles tense in answer.

"Stay away from that, O'Shaunessy. I am not going to let you drag me into that conversation again. Not after the last argument. If you aren't happy with me, you're welcome to go." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but they were far sweeter than the idea they might end up being betrayed by someone they could have sworn they could trust not to do so.

Sheamus sighed, and Wade heard the sound of his chair scraping against the floor. "I know it makes you upset to think about it, but it does bear thinking about. You know that."

Wade knew that but preferred to pretend he didn't, forcing the thoughts from his brain as he snatched a beer from inside the refrigerator, turning and shoving it into Sheamus's hand. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Sheamus shook his head and resumed his seat at the table. _Good._ Wade pulled a beer out for himself and left the kitchen behind, heading for the darkness of the living room instead. Much as he just _loved_ talking about the flaws in their relationship, he needed time to get himself in the correct mindset for a mission of this magnitude. Once he was in the right headspace and _if_ he felt like it was a conversation worth having, he and Sheamus could sit down and discuss what signatures pointing to people instead of general areas really meant.

He gulped down at least half of the bottle of the icy brew before setting it on the coffee table, eyeing the cabinet on the other side of the room. Though it looked ordinary from the outside, he knew it was full of weapons and he would arm himself to the teeth before he went out into the countryside tomorrow. Just in case. The last time he thought it was safe to go around their kind unarmed, he had been unpleasantly reminded as to why that was a stupid, stupid idea.

Sheamus joined him a moment later, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Since when does Dean ever need help with anything? That's the part I'm having trouble understanding."

"I don't know. He just said it was too big of a job for him. I don't think he was there alone, though." Actually, Wade _knew_ Dean wasn't alone at his home tonight, and that was vaguely worrying for many reasons. "I just know that when he asks for our help, we help him."

It was a little more complex than that, but it still stood to reason that Dean was their ally and they would always come to his aid because he never failed to come to theirs. Even if Dean preferred to fly solo, he never turned down a Hunter who needed his assistance and he likely never would. It felt wrong to even think about turning him down when he came to them for help.

"Maybe he'll explain it better when we meet up to talk," Sheamus said after a moment.

Wade nodded slowly. "Tomorrow night. Said he was using the day to canvas the area a bit."

"Sounds a lot like Dean. Always using every available minute." Sheamus chuckled when Wade leaned against him, using his shoulder as a pillow. "By all means, just cuddle up close."

Wade scoffed and allowed his eyes to fall closed. "Hush. I'm exhausted and my head hurts because as per usual, Dean is making me think too damn hard for my own good. Fucking Yank."

Sheamus's arm settled across his shoulders and Wade sighed softly, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch more. As exhausted as he was, he was certain he would still be up for hours yet. His mind refused to shut down during a case and he knew he had a blinder of a headache on the way which would no doubt knock him on his ass. Why did it have to be him?

"Just relax and we'll worry about it come morning," Sheamus murmured, and Wade nodded, forcing his eyes to close as he focused on just trying to fall asleep.

By morning, he hoped he would have had enough sleep to somewhat soothe how agitated and upset all of this made him. He tried to be patient, and he knew being a Hunter was important, that he had a massive job to do and therefore needed to do it carefully, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn about any of that when he remembered how likely it was that Sheamus could die.

But being a Hunter meant understanding that nothing was absolute; it was something all of them had to learn one way or another. Wade had learned it when his former partner, Mason, had been torn to shreds in front of him just before his back had been split open nearly to the fucking bone. Sheamus had learned it as well, though he never really elaborated on how. And Dean… Wade didn't really want to think about Dean or the haunted look in his eyes when they'd found him, sitting in the middle of the house and holding Renee's still body like it was all he had left.

The point was, they had learned. It was better to not push it. Just in case.

In a roundabout way, Corey had learned to be very, very careful of his surroundings. The last thing Taker would want would be for their little quartet of orphans to be found, so he did his best to keep them hidden at all costs. The fact their territory was so hostile was a problematic factor and it would provide more obstacles as time passed on, but for now, Corey did what he could to keep everyone safe. If it meant staying in human form longer than any of them wanted to or staying in the basement during their monthly shifts—something none of them could avoid—then so be it. Eventually, they would be safe. At least, that was what Corey told himself even when literally everything around them started to go to hell when Kevin had shown up.

He sighed and rubbed at his arms, trying to force some warmth back into his limbs as the cold air whipped around him. There would be a storm coming soon, and at least that would wash the scant traces of their scents away from the woods. Though as time passed and no one came for him, he began to wonder if the new wolves were running the woods at all. Surely one of them would have noticed the alien scents, and big cat scents were already so out of place around here.

The sound of shuffling footsteps made him glance up from where he was standing at the porch railing, peering out into the night. Scent alone was enough to identify the younger man, but he still turned just so Adrian knew he was acknowledged. It was disconcerting to see the little snow leopard up this late, but he had to be just as worried as the rest of them were if not more so.

Corey offered his arm and let Adrian cuddle up against his side, smoothing his hand over the dark curls that were never quite tamed properly. Though he knew very little about the four orphans he was supposed to watch over, he knew enough about body language in general to know something was wrong with Adrian, something none of them would be able to fix if they didn't know what it was. It didn't help the house was largely disjointed even on a good day. Between Adrian being so quiet, Sami trying to play mediator, Bo being too cheerful for his damn good, Tyler being a stuck-up snob, and Viktor and Konnor being not all right, things were hectic and there was nothing Corey could do to fix that. It was a peril of being such an odd pack and no longer having Taker to guide them and make sure everything was going okay.

"Why have you been out here for so long?" Adrian asked after a moment, tilting his head up to nuzzle under Corey's jaw. The only one in the house who's used to cold weather, Adrian is the only one allowed to walk around in a t-shirt. "It's really late. You'll be tired all tomorrow."

"I'm fine, kitten. I promise." Corey smoothed his hand along Adrian's hair, all too aware of how the younger wereanimal worried over all of them so much.

Adrian huffed but lets it go, resting his head on Corey's shoulder for a moment before speaking once again. "I just came out here to tell you that Sami's crying and I don't know what's wrong."

_Well, fuck._ Corey gave Adrian an approving pet before heading inside, all too aware that the little Brit was hot on his heels as he made a beeline for the bedroom that Adrian and Sami shared. Putting Sami in a room with either Bo or Tyler wasn't an option, not given the fact that Sami needs at least a little time away from everyone else to relax, and now he's upset. Hardly surprising because all of the boys are agitated. Taker had been away for a long time now.

The room was dark but it wasn't hard to make out Sami's shape on the far bed or the way it quivered and jerked. Turning his sigh inward, Corey crossed the room and lowered himself down on the edge of Sami's bed, peeling the blanket back to see his face. Sure enough, in his sleep, Sami cried and Corey was certain there was a nightmare attached to it. He pulled the smaller man up into his arms, not willing to wake him up if he could simply soothe the nightmare away.

"It's okay," he whispered against Sami's hair, noting Adrian standing only about a foot away, all uncertainty and nervous energy. He wanted so desperately for things to be okay, but Corey was beginning to think Taker was wrong and that _nothing_ would ever be right again.

They had barely managed to rescue Viktor and Konnor before holing up in this old house, and Corey just prayed to God that Kevin hadn't noticed the absence of the two who kept Taker bound loyally to his side. If he had, he would hunt them down and, in the process of finding two, find six altogether. It was exactly the kind of trouble they needed to avoid, and until they could be sure Kevin was dead—which was a long shot these days—none of them would ever be truly safe. They could cross the entire country and they would still never be safe.

As soon as Sami calmed down, lulled back into a peaceful slumber, Corey tucked him back in and stood, reaching out to gently pat Adrian's head. "He's okay now. Just a bad dream. You should be getting in bed yourself before you end up not sleeping at all."

"Are you going to go to sleep now?" Adrian asked, voice wavering just slightly.

"I'll think about it." It was the best Corey could do. "Now get in bed before I tie you to it."

Adrian huffed but nodded, and Corey gave him a quick one-armed hug before leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him. He had things to do before he went to bed.

"Corey?" The deceptively sweet voice that belonged to Tyler caught him off-guard and Corey mentally cursed as he turned to see the slight blond standing outside of his bedroom door. "Corey, what's going on? I heard you talking to Adrian just now."

"Sami had a nightmare. I was checking on him," Corey explained.

Tyler cocked his head and Corey yet again bit back a sigh before closing the distance between them and petting Tyler as well. The little tiger mewled up at him and closed his eyes, clearing enjoying the contact and, really, Corey always felt a little dirty getting noises out of him.

He stopped and pointed to the interior of the room. "Now, you need to be going to bed. It's late and I'm not going to listen to you all be cranky tomorrow because you didn't sleep."

Tyler pouted up at him. "Why don't you come share my bed tonight? It's warmer."

"You know I don't share beds with any of you and I don't intend to start. Go to _bed,_ Tyler." He pointed to the room again and Tyler sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically up at him. "I still have to check on Viktor and Konnor before I can go to bed myself. Please. Just go to bed."

He waited until the door closed before heading downstairs. There was only one bedroom on the first floor and though he had insisted on taking it himself, the two had snatched it, laid claim to it, and refused to move even though it was safer upstairs. Corey noted the door was cracked open and pushed it open wider, stepping into the dark room. There were no windows here but his night vision did him just fine and he could see where Konnor's bulky form was wrapped tightly around Viktor's smaller body. The two had been through hell at Kevin's hands but refused to break, determined to last until their mate came to save them. Not that Taker had been able to; Corey did that himself, nearly dying in the process; he touched the scar that ran across the front of his throat in memory and shuddered. Then he pushed the memories back and approached the bed, pleased to see the two deeply asleep. They'd had nightmares for the week they'd been home.

Once he was sure they were fine, he headed back upstairs to his room—Bo went to bed much earlier than everyone else and Corey had checked him enough times to be satisfied he would be just fine on his own. Instead, he headed to his room and closed the door behind him, sagging in relief now that he was alone. He shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it across the room where his laundry tended to end up. Adrian was the one who came and fetched it when it was time to be washed. Corey did very little of the household chores, assigning those to the wereanimals he shared the house with, but then he spent his time protecting them and providing for them, so as far as he was concerned, this was a way to make things a little more even.

He checked his phone, unsurprised to find there were no missed calls. "Goddamn it, Taker. You have to fucking tell me what's going on or I'm not gonna be ready when they show up."

There were hardly any numbers programmed into the phone to begin with, just the names of contacts they had in case he had to move the boys as quickly as possible. Moving Bo, Adrian, Tyler, and Sami had been a challenge all its own as the four rarely coexisted without a fight starting, but adding Viktor and Konnor to the mix made things even more complicated. While Adrian minded no one, the two darker wereanimals upset Bo, scared Sami, and repulsed Tyler.

Which there was no reason for any of it, not really. The four had been hunted nearly to the ends of the earth before Taker had finally swooped them up and sent them into hiding with Corey. It was a preventive measure, of course. If Kevin found the fifth before them, well, it was only a matter of time before the quarter was called away from them and Corey couldn't stop that.

He glanced up when someone knocked on the door, vaguely annoyed one of the wereanimals was interrupting the only private time he had anymore. But he swiftly veiled his irritation and opened the door, bracing his shoulder against the frame to block off the doorway. He was hardly surprised to find Bo standing in front of him, trying to push the tangled waves of his hair out of his eyes. He looked like he'd just woken up, which was hardly a surprise, but Corey would've preferred him to just stay in bed until he went back to sleep or something.

"Can't sleep?" His voice was maybe a little gruffer than it ought to be, but when it came to these boys, he was running out of patience. When Bo nodded, he sighed. "Just go lie back down."

Bo bit down on his lower lip and Corey knew the question was on the way before Bo finally got around to asking it. "Can I stay with you tonight? It doesn't feel… Right, being in there alone, and I just… I can't get back to sleep on my own. I'm sorry, Corey, I—"

"No." Corey shook his head. "No, Bo. You're not staying with me. Go back to your room."

He shut the door before Bo could argue his point, reminding himself this was for the best. To an extent, he had to care for them, but he also needed to keep his distance in case something happened to one or all of them. Letting himself get attached would make it hurt more when the inevitable happened, and so he would just keep himself closed off as long as possible.

At least, that was what he told himself to feel like less of a bastard for continuously hurting their feelings by pushing them away. He knew they were wereanimals, that they needed a special amount of contact and affection just to feel normal, but he couldn't risk it. He couldn't start to feel anything for them without putting himself at risk if they lost them or they were injured.

Corey wasn't Taker. He wasn't a mated man and he planned to stay that way; his kind lasted far too long for anything but brief instances of contact with people who didn't matter. One night stands and the like. Getting attached always ended in pain because while others died, he didn't. He lived even though he would rather have died. It was part of his life, and if he was going to learn to live with it, he had to follow the rules. Getting attached was firmly against them.

Yet again, it was what he told himself because he knew he hurt at least one of them every day, if not more, and he needed something to hold onto. Something to justify the way he acted.

So he had created his own mantra: _In the end, it'll be worth it._ Once Kevin was gone and the four were no longer under the constant threat of attack, it would be worth it. If they could find the fifty before Kevin, it would be worth it. All Corey had to do was keep them alive for that moment, and it would be worth it. They would finally get their happy endings and he could go back to living his life the way he preferred to live it: on the fringes and alone. And the world he lived in would be safe for the time being, something he so looked forward to once it happened.

After all, he had seen too many people try to destroy it to feel anything but angry and upset when they kept trying. Those who tried to destroy the world so often realized they also lived in it, and when it became nothing but ash and ruin, that was all they would have left, too. Or they would be dead. There was no winning in this game, and there never would be. They didn't see that, though.

Then again, the vast majority of them were mortal and he understood that contributed to it. He would be alive even if everything fell to ruin because he didn't die. He would see the end come.

There was no reason to rush it. No reason to call for destruction when those who wanted it had no true reason to want it in the first place. It was a hard lesson he had been forced to learn himself, and he smirked wryly before his hand once again drifted to his throat. Yeah, he had certainly learned that life was preferable to death and that ending the world wouldn't make him feel any better. Funny how the scars were in the same place, but maybe that was on purpose. A message to him from whatever higher power existed that he needed to keep the memory fresh.

Either way, it didn't really matter. He had sworn to protect the quartet and had taken in Taker's mates in order to keep the big man from worrying too much. Once his job was done, he would go back to obscurity and just try to live out the rest of his days—whatever that really _meant_—in peaceful solitude. It would be enough to know he had atoned for what he had once tried to do, and maybe it would be enough to remind him that staying alone was the best solution for him.

He flopped across the mattress still in his jeans, not bothering to take them off as he stared up at the dark ceiling in silent contemplation. Soon enough, it would be over. Taker would return, or they would find the fifth, or Kevin would find them. One way or another, it would be over and that was what Corey now desperately hoped for. Years of protecting Bo, Adrian, Tyler, and Sami would come to a head soon. He would stay around long enough to see how that played out before heading off on his own again. _It's better that way,_ he kept telling himself.

And at least it helped him get to sleep at night.

* * *

**_A/N: Thought I would introduce you guys to some very important characters. Now you more or less have an idea of what Kevin is looking for. But why is he looking for these four lovely young men? Well, I can't tell you that because it'd ruin the plot but believe me, it will be major._**


End file.
